Legacy
by klytaemnestra
Summary: Legacy. Into it we are born. TsengxRufus


**Disclaimer:** This belongs to Square-Enix, quite obviously, as if I owned it, _Advent Children_ and _Before Crisis_ … and _Dirge of Cerberus_ wouldn't see the light of day.

**Notes:** Mild game spoilers. Part of a larger intended arc written in collaboration with Finding Beauty. Read her stuff, it'll make me happy.

* * *

_Legacy_

It had been terribly late, and therefore most of the upper floors were long since deserted. A few workers remained, those hapless enough to leave the confines of their cubicles and offices meeting their fate at the end of Masamune. He has seen that blade before, its cruel precision depicted in black and white. It is with grim irony that the President lies pinned to his desk by that same blade, and Tseng finds that he cannot pity the man's ill-fated end. The old bastard should have seen it coming.

He closes his eyes, visions of blood and steel fresh in his mind. And perhaps for the first time, Tseng knows fear. There are no bloodstains here, only industrial grade carpeting, but that does little to quell his apprehension. He does not—will not—allow himself dwell long on the scenario playing out in his mind as he swipes his key card. Rufus's apartment is dark, illuminated only by the twinkling lights below.

With feline grace, he moves through the rooms assuring himself that Rufus is safe; there is nothing he can do but wreak vengeance if his fears materialize. He enters the bedroom.

Rufus lies curled within the mako-tinged bedsheets, sleeping form washed in shadows and light. The apprehension dissipates, and he closes his eyes once more silently reprimanding himself before refocusing on the sleeping blonde. He settles his weight upon the edge of the bed, leans down and brushes his fingertips along a pale cheek, "Rufus."

He stirs slightly, unconsciously twining the sheets tighter. For a moment Tseng hates to wake him, however it is unsure whether or not the former General is still within the building. He wants to keep Rufus close, unwilling to allow room for any risks.

Rufus makes a small sound of protest as Tseng sets about the task of rousing him. Light eyes slit open for a moment before he curls over and buries his face in the pillow.

"Rufus," Tseng nudges him again.

Rufus stirs, eyes part to the darkness once more, and settle on his lover's shadowed features before he tugs the covers up, intent on drifting back to sleep.

"Rufus, wake up."

"Tseng … stop it, I'm tired," he protests, curling against the Turk and sulking, "Come to bed."

"Rufus, you have to get up," he states evenly, and brushes his lips against soft golden strands, before pulling the covers away.

Rufus sits up in bed, and leans his head against Tseng's shoulder. He blinks a few times, regaining his bearings. "Tseng—what do you want?" he stifles a yawn beneath his palm.

For a moment, Tseng considers the truth. Sephiroth has infiltrated the building, the President is dead, and he is removing him from harm's way until this ordeal can be sorted out. Instead, he presses another lazy kiss to Rufus's temple. "We have to leave, Rufus. As soon as possible."

Blue eyes narrow at the words. "You're being vague."

Tseng nods.

"What is it?"

"There has been a breach in security," he replies, apprehension once again creeping. He smothers the weakness, and slides off the edge of the bed, pulling Rufus with him. He lingers for a moment, crushing the young man against him and brushing his lips against Rufus's temple. When he releases him, he realizes that Rufus knows that there is more taking place than he is willing to let on.

No words are exchanged as he helps Rufus dress, efficiently buttoning the duster and sliding on the suit coat before following as the young man steps into the living room, eyes scanning his surroundings.

Rufus pauses a moment to load his shotgun, a weapon he has mastered under the guidance of the Turks. Though rarely without his bodyguard, Tseng was rather insistent on having him trained to defend himself. Light eyes flash in question as he locks the cartridges into place.

All will reveal itself in due course.

They step out into the corridor, Tseng a short step behind Rufus, almond eyes intent on their surroundings. While he finds a certain comfort in knowing Masamune is no longer in the former General's possession, he does not doubt that Sephiroth may have used such as a ploy to trap them. His tactics were not always orthodox.

"Sir, it may be best to leave the building until the intruder is found," Tseng offers after a moment.

Rufus keeps his focus ahead, never missing a beat, "I don't see why."

Tseng pulls Rufus to a halt, twisting him around, hands firm on his shoulders, eyes betraying nothing as he speaks, "We do not know their motives, Rufus."

Rufus starts to say something—

"Sir, you're wanted on the roof."

He turns to the blonde young woman trailing toward them.

"Thank you, Elena." Tseng replies.

"They want to know what to do with the body, Sir—" her words cut off by a sharp glare from her superior.

Rufus eyes narrow in question. "What is going on … that you're so unwilling to tell me?" And Tseng knows that the truth is no longer avoidable.

"Sir," he begins, voice dispassionate as ever, "Sephiroth infiltrated the building. The President is dead."

Rufus stare grows darker, allowing a moment for the words to sink in.

"He may yet still be inside. It is in the best interest to get you out of the building so it may be placed on lockdown." Words clipped, professional. Several seconds later the lights in the corridor flicker out, and a dull red glow hums to life. "Sir, if you will. There's a helicopter waiting."

The climb to the next story is a brief one. Tseng scans his key card, punching in the access code to override the system lockdown, pausing briefly to flick the safety off his pistol. He is the first one into the corridor, eyes narrowed and alert. There can be no room for mistakes. He escorts Rufus down the hall, wishing him away from this place, but the young man protests as the Turks lead him past the late President's office.

"Sir, we cannot linger," Tseng's voice is firm, a half-gloved hand reaching out to halt Rufus from straying from their course. He does not let on his true reasoning. Sheltered as Rufus is he doubts if the young man has ever seen death firsthand and questions the impact it may have.

"I want to see him," Rufus breathes, doubt creeping into his voice, "I want to know that he's dead." Tseng's hand slips from Rufus's arm, knowing that his lover would never be entirely satisfied without this confirmation.

There is only the barest of hesitation after Rufus enters the office, gaze settling on the form of his father impaled on Masamune. Something foreign creeps over him, perhaps remorse. For a brief instance he sees himself as a child sitting at this very desk, innocent and unaware. The image quickly dissipates to his father's advisors, each wishing only to secure their own place among the corporation, remembering their words of poison and how he learned to fear his father. How they succeeded in alienating him, making his father wary and suspicious—

"Sir."

He blinks, for the first time aware of his surroundings, the blood rushing in his head, the slow in take of breath, Tseng's hand resting against his shoulder seeming nothing more than a type of comfort within the lines of protocol.

"The helicopter is waiting."

The room tilts slightly, the air suddenly choking. And he wants away from this place, acutely aware of the fact that he will never escape.

Into this legacy he was born.

_fin_


End file.
